The Fairytale Reformulation
by Boggy
Summary: Continuation of the original 2014 film. Story follows the events/misadventures of Maleficent, her raven aide-de-camp, and their adopted "goddaughter," the Princess Aurora, as they build kingdoms, "interspecies peace," and if Diaval can swing it, maybe even a pretty, new nest.
1. A Second (Third?) Impression

Author's Notes: Writing for the _Maleficent_ ficverse has been a goal of mine since the first movie launched back in 2014. But plans sort of...fell by the wayside and my story never saw the light of day. Then it was announced that Disney was making a sequel, so I held off in an effort to avoid my ideas potentially retconning movie canon. (If you've read anything of mine, you'll know I'm a HUGE stickler for canon.)

Turns out, my fear was unfounded. The sequel more or less retconned _itself_, taking what was obviously a one-and-done with the original and tacking nonsensical worldbuilding on to an already unnecessary, nonsensical film. Now, I won't take an entire AN to write a fleshed-out review. But suffice to say, _Maleficent: Mistress of Evil _is a gargantuan pile of radioactive poo.

As disappointed as I am with MoE, it DID light a fire under my backside to _finally _get the ball rolling on my story. It's my hope that I keep the characters true to themselves, the "fairytale" feeling of the first film intact, and provide a reading experience the audience enjoys. My fic in no way, shape, or form coincides with the sequel. As far as I and my story are concerned, it doesn't exist (because it shouldn't). If you haven't seen MoE, no worries. Nothing here you need to know. If you have, forget the baffling awfulness of what you saw and focus on the events of the first film, because that's all that really matters here in this ficspace.

Once again, this story picks up right after the events of the first movie. Aurora has been crowned queen of the Moors, Maleficent's hair is free and long and beautiful, and Diaval is actually recognized as a character people love and adore and is given things to actually _do_. (In stark contrast to MoE.) Feel free to leave any comments or critiques you might have in a reader review.

Disclaimer: _Maleficent _and all associated characters/stories © Disney.

**A Second (Third?) Impression**

Their first "visit" to the castle had been nothing short of suicide. In a battle of epic proportions, they'd "stormed"—a rather exaggerated descriptor for a fairy, a raven-man and a comatose prince—the castle in an effort to save a "daughter" and revoke a terrible curse. The outlook had been bleak at the start, but ended in wings, a fire-breathing dragon, and the aged body of a manic king lying bloodied and broken against the cold, hard earth.

Their second had been a reuniting of the human kingdom's princess with her people. As only child of the late King Stefan and Queen, responsibility of the land and its inhabitants fell squarely on the shoulders of the monarchy's only surviving heir. Though informed of her royal lineage only weeks before, the young princess was next in line for the throne; and thus, was dictated by duty and decree to reign from her realm of birth as sovereign power of the state.

Their third and present visit was part informal gathering of "the authorities that be," and part "interspecies mingling." Both the humans and fair folk had been summoned in the hopes of setting aside old grudges and fostering peace. The "authorities that be" included the royal court and a few visiting dignitaries—from the neighboring kingdom of Ulstead, mostly—whilst the princess' godparents—the infamous horned fairy and her raven aide-de-camp—filled the role of representatives for the magical Moors.

And so the Great Hall filled with feathered hats and flowing gowns, a liveliness in the air the likes the castle hadn't seen or felt in years. With the late king's descent into lunacy and the death of the tragically unhappy queen, the castle itself seemed drained of color. What was once a relatively vibrant abode had become a fortress of anguish and isolation in the years following Maleficent's curse. But with the return of the Princess Aurora, light itself seemed to rise up from within its very walls. And with just a few short weeks behind them, the color that had seemed so muted as they clawed for survival under iron chains exploded to the surface, affecting not only the mortar and stone of the palace walls, but the people who inhabited it.

Indeed, there was an almost unthinkable pacificity for a room filled with humans and a pair of magic-infused beasts. You would never have guessed that an enormous barrier of impenetrable vines had separated the two species just months before. Maleficent chalked it up to the power of her "Beastie," so infectious was her joy. There was still mistrust, of course, and she didn't expect the fairies would be giving "guided tours" of the Moors any time this decade. But fairies and man, two creatures who to that point had despised one another with the passion of a thousand suns, were mixed together in the same room, at the same party, with not a single threat of death on either side.

It was more than she would have betted on in a lifetime.

From her seat at the front of the room, Maleficent quietly observed the cacophony of humans shuffling about her. They were a gossiping bunch, tossing wayward glances in her direction whilst hiding poorly concealed whispers behind goblets of gold. There was a clear divide between herself and the rest of the guests, ominous as Maleficent's aura could be—which didn't offend the fairy in the least. She flexed her pinions, grateful for the long wooden bench Aurora had placed special for her, the backing of the more traditional _chair_ a hindrance to her recently restored wings. Perched in her lap was Diaval, in raven form, his eyes following the activity of the room. Diaval had seen the castle many times, but only as a scout, and only as long as was needed to ascertain whatever information his "Mistress" had dispatched him to collect. Such secrecy was no longer necessary now that the Princess Aurora sat on the throne. And that fact suited the pretty raven just fine.

Unbeknownst to the other, the magical pair watched as their "goddaughter" moved about the crowd, nodding and curtsying with a winsome smile, her golden locks bouncing in elegant curls down and around her shoulders and back. Diaval puffed with pride at the sight and Maleficent, on reflex, caressed the fine feathers of his neck and nape. His bill opened instinctively at the sensation, releasing a little _purr-caw_ from his throat. He craned his head to give her easier access to the sensitive spots beneath his chin, his wings fluttering outward under the ministrations of her long—but gentle—nails. With a fondness she'd often felt but never voiced, Maleficent rolled her eyes, a small smirk forming in spite of herself.

_Spoiled bird._

Her fingers had worked their way halfway to Diaval's underbelly when Aurora danced her way over, the polite smile from before replaced with a smile rivaling the brightness of the sun. Her teeth shone white and the happiness of her face radiated at the sight of her "godparents," nestled comfortably from their shared seating at the right side of the royal throne. She joined her "godmother" in smoothing Diaval's feathers—though her hands didn't stray quite as low as the fairy's—the raven clicking happily at the attention.

"Don't indulge him, Aurora," Maleficent scolded half-heartedly. "He's ridiculous enough as is."

The princess laughed as Diaval cawed in theatrical protest, his wings extending out on either side as he bobbled from talon to talon on Maleficent's knee.

"Though not half as ridiculous as these _humans_," she added with a scowl.

"Be _nice_, Godmother," Aurora chided lightly. "You and Diaval are my honored guests."

"I thought I _was_ being nice," Maleficent countered. "No one's cursed. ...Or on _fire_." She chuckled quietly to herself at the thought.

"The humans are _nervous_," the pretty princess huffed. "They're not used to being in such close proximity to magic."

Maleficent raised her chin with a scoff, resuming her careful petting of Diaval's head.

"And I want them to know what a wonderful world I come from. And the parents who raised me." Aurora eyed the eclectic pair pointedly. "I need you _both_ on your best behavior."

Diaval squawked, as if offended by the suggestion that _his_ behavior could be anything but. Maleficent blinked innocently, as if the thought of turning her "servant" into a dragon and setting the room ablaze _hadn't_ crossed her mind at least once—maybe twice—that evening.

"Godmother…" Aurora placed her hands on her hips warningly.

"We'll be good." The fairy's finger trailed the length of Diaval's back in one long, sensuous stroke. "Promise."

The word of her "godmother" was enough it seemed, as the dear girl instantly reverted to her smiling, playful state. Aurora, even at sixteen years of age, was quite young. It might have been her unconventional rearing in the woods. Or the ever-present optimism she'd been "blessed" with as an infant babe. Whatever the cause, the fair princess was as innocent and unassuming as she was beloved, with a near-childlike confidence that whatever her "godmother" or "godfather" promised, was as good as a command from the Creator Himself.

And it was a priority of both creatures that they never betray that trust.

"It would do you good to get up and circulate, Godmother," Aurora offered diplomatically. "Get to know the humans. Stretch your wings a bit."

"I know them well enough," Maleficent humphed. "Besides, 'communication' goes both ways. There's nothing stopping any one of them from walking over _here_ and saying 'hello.'"

"I told you, Godmother. They're _nervous_. Magic doesn't exactly fall from trees in these parts and I…"

Aurora's argument trailed off as she caught movement out of the corner of her left eye. There, peeking out from behind the frame of the side chamber door, was the castle's youngest scullion maid, Marie. An orphan from birth, both the girl's parents had died young, with no surviving kin to tend for the newborn child. She had been placed in the care of the castle staff, raised by the community of workers as best their busy schedules would allow. Aurora had taken to her immediately, seeing in the girl a shadow of her younger self—sweet, curious, and shoehorned into a world that wasn't quite her own.

The little maid's tiny fingers held the door ajar as her gaze fixed inquisitively on the winged woman seated at the front of the room. She blinked with fascination at the sight, her mouth open in awe at the realization of a _fairy_, of all things, positioned smack-dab in the middle of the palace. It brought to Aurora's thinking a brilliant thought, so determined she was to ease the long-standing tensions between her two peoples. If the adults were too stubborn to mend ties, she'd just have to rely on the impartiality—and winningness—of youth.

Turning towards the door, the princess gestured to Marie, beckoning her forward with both hands and a glimmering smile. Eyes wide, the pint-sized maidservant walked shyly to the throne, hands wringing nervously at her chest.

"Y-you're highness," she curtsied with a stutter.

"Marie!" The princess beamed. "Meet my godparents! This is Maleficent," she motioned to the fairy with a wave, "and Diaval."

The little girl stood speechless under the scrutinizing gaze of the princess' "godmother." Posture erect, Maleficent regarded the girl with an almost wary contempt, her "maternal softness" reserved for her goddaughter and goddaughter alone. The orphaned child picked up on the fairy's disdain almost immediately, her feet shifting with an internal struggle as she bounced between offering a polite "hello," and turning tail and retreating to the safety of the kitchen.

Fortunately, the more socially adept Diaval was there to break the ice.

Dismounting from his "Mistress'" lap, the fetching raven hopped over to the far side of the bench, talons tap-tapping against the wood as he cheerfully approached the gobsmacked Marie. He offered up a subdued "caw" of greeting, his wings flapping animatedly at the prospect of making a new friend. Although human speech escaped his raven form, he communicated acceptance and comfort in a way the steely-tempered fairy—in any language—could not.

His reward was an instant smile.

"Wow…" the young girl breathed. "What a pretty bird!"

Diaval released a gutteral rattle at the compliment, his head high as he reveled in the flattering of his truest—and favorite—shape.

Maleficent rolled her eyes, again, all too accustomed to Diaval's touting of his "beautiful self." She'd never met a more vain and ego-inflated creature in all her existence. It was that same vanity that had been her near-constant companion for the better part of seventeen plus years. And as she watched him "charm" his way into the good graces of the sheepish maid, Maleficent convinced herself it was that, and not the loss of the feeling of warmth where his body had been, that irked her.

She had half a mind to fuss, but stilled at the sight of Diaval lowering his head in invitation to Marie's hand. It unnerved her, the thought of _humans_ handling what she had by no means given permission to touch—even if said human was nothing more than a silly child. She felt heat rising from her throat to her face, her eyes glowing with an indignant rage...but caught herself as Aurora bent down, running her long, pale fingers over Diaval's neck.

"Gently. Like this, Marie."

Annoyed, but no longer incensed, Maleficent watched with a careful eye as her confidante played "pet" to the castle maid. As exasperating as Diaval could often be (and was), the fairy had to admit that his patience with children was unparalleled. He had been a perfect partner and counterbalance during their years of rearing Aurora as their own. Whereas Maleficent's role had been largely one of keeping their "hatchling" from toppling over cliffs, Diaval had been the one to feed, rock, clean, and entertain. And it was no secret that those moments had been the happiest of his life.

A grown "little one," it seemed, hadn't diluted his love of children in the least.

Aurora and Marie giggled as Diaval "croaked" and "clicked" under the attention of the girls, Maleficent's aggravation settling by the second. She remained mindful of her "servant," but managed to keep her magic—and hair-trigger temper—in check.

And so, their third trip to the castle ended with a bench, two pairs of wings, and a promise to visit the princess before the next full moon.

It wasn't exactly ravens and dogs in harmony...but it was a start.


	2. Blurred Boundaries

Author's Notes: I don't know why this chapter was so difficult to write, but I've spent the better part of a week putting the finishing touches on this piece. I still think it sounds a bit..._weird_ in places, but that may just be my having edited and re-edited to the point that everything reads like Egyptian hieroglyphics. xDD It's one of the hazards of writing fic. As the author, it always sounds like the worst garbage ever known to FFNet until you've waited a couple weeks and can revisit your work with fresh eyes. As of now, the whole thing is just Klingon garble. T.T

I do like the overall train of thought. Don't worry, I won't spend the entirety of the story in the castle of the human kingdom. The first three or four chapters are for laying a foundation and reinforcing the connection of this story to the ending plot of the original 2014 film (that got retconned/massacred in the recent 2019 sequel). Because Maleficent's "heart is bright," as stated by the elderly Aurora in the first flick, our winged fairy isn't quite the angst-ridden blowhard that she is during the sixteen years of Aurora's curse (and the extra year or so prior to the princess' birth). She's still Maleficent, of course, but with more of that "weightlessness" that you see during Maleficent's youth. Aurora is still very much the Aurora of 2014, not the somber, family-abandoning imposter that she was in MoE. Diaval too is the character we know and love—bold, melodramatic, and full of affectionate snark.

And speaking of raveny things, I'm presently playing through _The Raven: Legacy of a Master Thief_, a 2013 point-and-click adventure game for Xbox 360. Pleasing little gem, with a very lovable—if not bumbling—protagonist, whose name I've taken the liberty of using for the character of Ulstead's Captain of the Guard in my fic. (Not super fond of using OCs in my stories, but the world of Maleficent all but requires it if you intend on venturing any further than the borders of the Moors in building plot.) Keep an eye out for him towards the latter half of the chapter.

Disclaimer: _Maleficent _and all associated characters/stories © Disney. _The Raven: Legacy of a Master Thief _© King Art Games, The Adventure Company, and THQ.

**Blurred Boundaries**

She might never have admitted it _out loud_—and short of excruciating pain of death, never would—but Diaval was a source of tremendous comfort.

The castle unnerved Maleficent. Even with the revitalizing presence of their "Beastie," the very structure of palace life was suffocating for the winged fae. Even the look of it was constricting: its tall stone walls and tumbling row of towers; the small, square windows and gates with iron bars; the inorganic feel of its fixtures and finery. Its design was such as to keep the inhabitants _in_, and unwanted visitors _out_.

And therein laid the baffling contradiction.

There were hundreds upon hundreds of rooms and corridors...but space was cramped. The ceilings stretched for days...but there was too little room to fly. For all the expanse of it, the castle was a cage. There was no sun. There was no open sky. The very ground she walked upon felt cold.

Like a bird trapped beneath a net.

At the chilling thought, her breathing hitched. Her surroundings spun. But she steadied herself with one blink, two blinks, as a shaking hand groped desperately for her second but equally reliable set of "wings."

Diaval, with an understanding he never voiced, positioned his head for her falling fingers, nudging them slightly with a soft bunt of his crown. His talons pricked at her kneecaps, his tiny raven toes leaving the faintest, four-pronged impression in the fabric of her dress. He croaked encouragement, and soon her left hand joined her right one in smoothing the sleek planes of his neck. It went crosswise with his nature to stay still for long. But in moments like these, when the fairy's stress was at its peak, he stayed near and unmoving until Maleficent calmed and the moment passed.

He could recall days, especially _dark_ days, when she'd stroked his wings for what felt like hours. Though he'd often boasted of her inability to _ever_ get along without him, he did wonder, soberly, what would have become of her without someone, _anyone_ there to help buffer the hurt.

Thankfully, it'd been some years since such a day. Having the young Aurora to raise and care for had much improved the embittered fairy, rerouting hatred for the father into an affectionate, motherly love for the daughter. And Diaval too considered Aurora his own. Together, he and his "Mistress" had tended to the princess' needs—first as an excuse to "keep the little brat alive" (in Maleficent's words only), and later out of genuine love for the sole offspring either had ever known.

Aurora had taken the news of her true lineage quite well. ...Nor had she seemed overly surprised that the raven playmate of her youth had served as her primary caretaker since the now-infamous "christening curse." The pixies, fond of them as the princess was, were ill-equipped for handling much of, well, _anything_. That they had somehow miraculously seen her through to her adolescent years was a yarn even the trusting Aurora didn't buy. But they were still her "Aunties," bumbling inefficiencies and all, and not a floral crown or even the governing of two kingdoms would lessen the tenderness she held for them in her heart.

Maleficent and Diaval were, likewise, her "godmother" and "godfather," endearments used near-interchangeably with "parents." Some days she went as far as calling them "Mother" and "Father," unfamiliar as she was with her family of birth. Queen Leila, bless her, had died a tragic death of disappointment and neglect. And Stefan had met his just ends by, in actuality, his own hand. Though the fairy had yet to divulge the "particulars" of her past, the princess understood it was he, the king, who had stolen her "godmother's" wings. It had been a vile, sickening act...but the more forgiving parts of her couldn't help but pity the sad, grisly man he had become. She had called him "father" just once, unaware of who and what he really was, and vowing never again upon learning the truth. Diaval, the first "man" she'd ever laid eyes on in life, was the only creature worthy of the honor. And while Aurora mourned the circumstances of the late queen, the "mother" she loved was in the form of the magical fairy who'd overseen her care.

It was her "parents" the pretty princess now observed, once again nestled in their selective seating at the front of the Great Hall. As was expected of the pair, the fairy sat with her back straight and head high, regarding the commotion of the crowd with a sort of repressed unease. Diaval, never more than an arm's reach away, had perched himself atop Maleficent's lap, his raven body still and his uncommonly kind eyes drinking in the excitement of the room. Aurora couldn't recall ever seeing one without the other, but was uncertain to the exact nature of their relationship. She knew well enough not to ask outright—she doubted it would do much good if she did—even as her girlish, romantic mind ran wild with secret hope.

But for all the fun she had watching them together, Aurora wished they would at least _attempt_ to intermingle with the palace court. They were parents to the soon-to-be queen of the human kingdom, and as much as she considered the Moors her home, the humans of the land were her own kind. She had a responsibility to them. By and large, they needed far more guidance and moral steering than the whimsical Moors ever would. The whole point of their "gatherings" was for both sides to learn how to respect and communicate with the other. For that, Diaval was clearly the better choice. But there was nothing for it in his present form, a raven who could only "caw" and "squawk" and "screech." And for reasons Maleficent had yet to share, she steadfastly refused bringing him to the castle as a "man." The fairy herself made for a poor conversationalist, so accustomed to solitude and lacking in even the most basic of social graces.

Dealing with her "godmother" required a certain "thick-skinnedness," Aurora knew. She wasn't a "wicked" or mean-spirited thing, but the Moors were a land of forthcoming creatures, ill-versed in lies, trickery or deceit. And thus, their language and mannerisms were more...direct. They felt and lived as the moment decreed. They were as kind as anything could be, but were irreverent of pomp and circumstance. Even the crowning of their "queen" was as simple as a coming together of the inhabitants to place a pretty gold circlet on a head of pretty golden hair.

Her "human" coronation would be nowhere near as cut and dry. There would be dress fittings and guest lists and the Creator knew how many decorations to be hung. There would be food enough for three kingdoms, a lavish ball, and no small amount of wine. All of which would take time and planning to prepare. It would likely be some weeks, maybe even _months_, before Aurora "officially" ascended the throne. It was her hope that between now and that time, humans and her "godparents"—and by extension, all the people of the Moors—were on more amicable terms.

...Which wasn't at all likely to happen with the fairies and humans clinging stubbornly to opposing sides of the room.

She had been mere seconds from thrusting the closest royal she could find into an audience with the fae, when in a surprising stroke of fate, a quartet of able-bodied young men segregated themselves from the crowd. A curious silence fell over Aurora and the other guests as they marched with a warrior's stride to the expanse of space before Maleficent and her retainer bird. With but a glimpse of their dark blue uniforms, Aurora recognized them immediately as elite soldiers of Ulstead. They had been among the first of the visiting dignitaries to welcome her return, Ulstead having sent their sole heir and prince ahead in the hopes of securing, through marriage, a mutually beneficial political alliance. Leading the esteemed pack was the prince himself, Philip, dressed in an equally dashing suit of blue with gold trim. The fine buckles and trappings of their attire glowed warmly under the light of the candelabra, the group maintaining a polite distance at the sight of Maleficent's cautious eyes and expanding wings.

Pleased as she was with the development, Aurora had to question the wisdom of introducing soldiers, of all people, to the inherently combative fae. Yet none of the men were armed, and Philip stood as a barrier between Maleficent and his company, bearing an outstretched arm and a charming smile.

"Lady Maleficent," he greeted with a formal bow. "What a pleasure it is to see you again!"

The fairy raised a skeptical brow. "Is it?"

"Why of course! With as highly as her highness speaks of you, I feel as though there is no greater honor than having the protector of the Moors here as our esteemed guest."

The look on her face suggested "Lady Maleficent" was not impressed. But the prince, unaffected lad that he was, didn't miss a beat.

"May I introduce Anton Jakob Zellner, Captain of the Guard and personal escort to the Prince of Ulstead." To that he offered a bumbling laugh, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. "That's me, of course."

The childishness of the response made Aurora giggle. Philip, bless him, was as honest and good-natured as they came. But he lacked the elegance of a more refined royal.

The princess liked him that way.

"Your ladyship," the captain stepped forward with a formal bow of his own. "Allow me to echo the prince's sentiments. Tales of your combative prowess have reached even the halls of the neighboring Castle Ulstead. And whatever side we fight upon, soldiers respect soldiers."

Posture erect, he balled his right fist, raising it to rest firmly against the peak of his left shoulder blade.

"From one warrior to another, I offer my welcome to the human kingdom."

The two soldiers standing behind him repeated the action in kind.

Maleficent, visibly taken aback by the speech, offered a nod of acknowledgement to the captain and his two guards. Aurora would take puzzlement over hostility any day, though her "godmother's" nervous stroking of Diaval's feathers did not escape the princess' attention.

It did not escape the watchful Zellner's either.

"Fine friend you've got there," he offered warmly.

"This is Diaval," Philip, ever the cheerful obliviant, offered with a primp of his coat. "He is the…" A clunky pause. "He is Maleficent's, er, well…"

Uncertain how to explain the multi-faceted bird, the prince's voice trailed off. He wasn't sure what he should say, or if the one or two things he'd ascertained he _could_ say, being so poorly versed in fair folk etiquette and only half-understanding of what Diaval and Maleficent even were. Staying in the good graces of Aurora's "godparents" was key if he had any hope of someday marrying the princess. But Maleficent and Diaval weren't traditional "parents," and Aurora wasn't a traditional "princess."

He wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

Sensing his discomfort, Aurora swooped in to save the fumbling prince.

"He is Godfather," she interjected, not a second's hesitation in her words. "He helped raise me, alongside Godmother."

As was always the case when she introduced Diaval, the raven, as her "father" or "godfather," she received no shortage of peculiar looks. It was to be expected as, in his present form, he was no more to humans than a large, pretty bird. Rumors had circulated through the court of her "suspect faculties," and whether the princess suffered the same "malady of the mind" that had plagued King Stefan for the bulk of his reign. Only Philip knew the truth—that the raven's form shifted at her "godmother's" will—but to say as such would only further the people's uncertainty to the soundness of her mental state.

It would have made things much easier presenting Diaval to the court as a _man_. But that was a point on which her "godmother" had insistently refused to budge. A part of Aurora understood. Maleficent was a possessive creature by nature, a characteristic fueled all the more by Stefan's treachery and the loss of her wings. Diaval had served as a "replacement" for the ones she'd lost for over seventeen years. Yet even with the return of her body's own, she considered him no less her "wings" than when he'd navigated the skies in her stead. In a sense, Diaval was as much a part of her as the feathers protruding from the joints in her back. To lose him now would be no different than when Stefan had sawed off her own those many, many years ago. It was evident with how she covered him, her hands forming an almost protective shielding between herself and any creature that approached who wasn't the princess. It was both sad and endearing, and Aurora hoped that with time, what little was left of the brokenness in her "godmother's" heart would heal.

For his part, Diaval showed no concern. He seemed as blithely accepting of the situation as he was all situations, his raven body puffed and his beak moving about in what Aurora assumed was a very prideful "hello." She giggled again at the sight of the soldiers, their eyes widening at the bizarre, humanlike behaviors of what they perceived was a common bird. The more mischievous part of her wished Maleficent would flick her wrist and will him into a man, just to see the faces of the crowd as he manifested in wisp and smoke, tall and lean and ethereal as only Diaval was.

But Maleficent was not feeling tricksy today.

Whether the unexpectedness of the speech or an acceptance that the soldiers meant no harm, the horned fairy visibly settled, resuming her reverent soothing of Diaval's feathered physique. The barest of smiles formed as her forefinger moved to the sensitive spot at the dip of the raven's neck. He wobbled druggedly at the sensation, as Philip and the soldiers watched with rapt interest.

"Quite the spoiled pet, isn't he?"

The shared exclaim that immediately followed—"He isn't a pet!"—made the group flinch, Maleficent and Aurora glaring sternly at the insinuation that Diaval was a "kept animal." Both "godmother" and "goddaughter" knew it was a misspeak of ignorance, but the simplifying of Diaval's identity ruffled feathers—one of gold, one of earthen brown—just the same. Regret was evident in the face of the captain of the guard, his hands raised in a gesture of no intended disrespect. It was a greater breach of etiquette than the poor captain could comprehend, but the apology sufficed. For though Maleficent's eyes were hard, the wings that had flared out in offense slowly lowered to a place of rest at the fairy's back.

Softer, but to reiterate the point, Maleficent emphasized with a look that Diaval was indeed more than what he seemed. "He isn't a pet." She paused, her hands returning once more to the gingerly caressing of her nestmate's head. "Spoiled and insufferably indulged? Yes."

A palpable relief washed through the room, Aurora laughing at a caw of protest as the raven bounced animatedly on Maleficent's knee. Snickering, the fairy snuck a hand around back to tug at one of Diaval's ebony tail-feathers, eliciting playful pecks and pokes from the raven's beak.

The candelabra flickered as the evening wore on. Zellner and the guards were the last—and only—visitors of the night; no one else came forward for an audience with the fae. Tension dissolved, Philip and his company retired to a private gathering across the Hall, leaving the happy huddle of fairy, raven, and princess to their own.

Perchance it was only a trick of the light, but the gap separating the humans and fae folk, the sides to which they had been so stubbornly "stuck," seemed _not quite_ so far apart as they had before.


End file.
